The party which had been out with the canoe reached the vessel with a
goodly supply of beautiful fish just at the same time as the whale-boat
with the treasured-up pearls, over which Mallam had sat chuckling all
the way back, pointing out to Carey the beauties of the large ones, and
glancing furtively the while at the doctor in his delight over that
gentleman's discomfiture.
Carey was bitterly annoyed, but he took it all pretty coolly.
"All right, old gentleman," he said to himself. "You've only set your
slaves to work and washed and cleaned them for us; we'll have them all
back again when you've cleaned the rest."
But Carey had not been without his anxious feelings, though, all the
time, regarding Bostock; and his first glance as he ascended the side of
the stranded steamer was directed to the spot where he had last seen the
old sailor with the row of black fellows watching him.
But a chill ran through the boy, for there was no sign of Bostock, and
the ten blacks, his guards, were all forward in a cluster.
Carey sighed with relief the next minute, for, hearing them on deck, he
thrust his head out of the cook's galley, and the boy grasped the fact
that Bostock was busy preparing dinner, and the blacks were attracted
there by the smell.
Directly after the old sailor had an addition to his work in the shape
of fish to fry, and Carey seized the opportunity the examination of the
fish afforded to whisper to the old sailor.
"Well," he said, "you're all right."
"Yes, I'm all right, my lad, but I were a bit mouldy when I saw you go,
and went and got ready for action."
"Yes? What did you do?"
"Went and shoved the poker in the oven stove, sir; for I says to myself
they tames lions and tigers in wild beast shows with red-hot irons, and
if these here wild, black fellows tries on any of their games with me,
I'll try if I can't tame them."
"Capital!" said Carey, eagerly.
"I calls that an out-and-out good idee, Master Carey, and look here,
sir, when it comes for a strike for liberty, I'll undertake to tackle
the black uns with a couple o' hot pokers and a few kettles o' boiling
water, and if I don't clear the deck I'm a Dutchman, which can't be, for
I was born in Bromley-by-Bow."
"We'll win yet, Bob," whispered Carey, eagerly.
"Course we will, my lad, only take it coolly, and go about as if your
comb were reg'larly cut and your spurs took off. I say."
"Yes?"
"I shall expect you and the doctor to tackle Old King Cole."
"Yes, yes, but we must have arms."
"Course you must. You wait."
"Yes. Were the blacks civil to you?"
"Yes, but they sat and gloated over me as if they were picking out
tit-bits, sir, till I felt all cold down the back, and as it didn't seem
the ripe time for the hot poker, for they didn't begin to show fight, I
thought I'd try a bit o' civility."
"Yes, what did you do?"
"Give 'em a civiliser."
"I don't understand you, Bob. Oh, you mean you gave them some spirits."
"Tchah! Think I'm off my head, sir? Sperrits? Why, ever so little
drives those black chaps mad as hatters. No," whispered the old sailor,
with a low chuckle, "I beckoned to one of 'em, and he come down off the
rail where he'd been sitting in a row like a tame monkey with his mates,
and he followed me, club in hand, to the stooard's place, where I got a
big jar and a table fork, and brought it back on deck to where his mates
were waiting, and down they hopped as soon as they saw the jar, and
began to dance round, singing, `'ticky! 'ticky!' in a regular chorus."
"Ah," cried Carey, "they heard Black Jack call the molasses sticky."
"Soon, though, as I cut the string and pulled off the bladder cover, and
they saw it was all yaller, they began to show their teeth and snarl.
`'Ticky! 'Ticky!' they says again, but `all right, my lads,' I says,
and I sticks the fork into an onion, winks at 'em, and pops it into my
mouth. Then I does the same with a gherkin, and, my word, didn't they
all change their tune! Everyone wanted a taste, so I gives the fork to
the chap as come with me, makes him squat down, and claps the big brown
jar between his legs."
"Mixed pickles!" cried Carey, eagerly.
"Piccadilly, sir," said the old sailor, correctively. "Then I makes all
the rest sit round him in what you calls a silly circle."
"Silly circle!" cried Carey, laughing. "I should think it was!"
"That's right, sir--a black silly circle. `There you are, grinning
idgits,' I says; `now amuse yourselves with that, and while you're busy
I'll go and cook the dinner and see if I can't get hold o' something for
the Guvnors to cook Old King Cole's goose.'"
"And did they eat the pickles?" said Carey, eagerly.
"Eat 'em, sir? That they did, very slow and careful too as soon as they
found what they were like. They played fair too, each chap taking his
bit in turn like young birds in a nest, beak wide open, bit o'
cauliflower or a couple o' French beans popped in, beak shut, and then
each chap shut his eyes, jumped up, and danced."
"Just like children," said Carey.
"They seemed to think the beans was some kind o' worms or grubs, sir,
and when it come to the capsicums, the chaps as got 'em rolled
themselves on the deck with delight, and all the rest wanted 'em too.
But I didn't stop long; I was off, and they took no more notice o' me
till I began cooking, when they stood about to grin and smell. I got
'em, though," said Bostock, mysteriously.
"Got what?"
"Three double guns, three revolvers, and a box o' cartridges."
"Oh!" whispered Carey, excitedly. "Where are they?"
"Rolled up in what's left o' the mains'l, and I folded it up and twisted
a rope round it. Yonder it is, amidships."
"Hi! You! Come along here," came in the beachcomber's harsh voice, and
Carey had to hurry to him. "Come and help with these," and he pointed
to the bucket of glistening pearls. "Get me something to put them in."
Carey thought for a moment, and then went below, to return with the
first things he thought suitable, and Mallam nodded his satisfaction.
"They'll do," he said. "'Bout dry now. Your back's easier than mine.
Pour 'em in. No smugging--"
The pearls were carefully emptied into a couple of cigar boxes, and
placed under lock and key in a small closet in the captain's cabin, of
which Mallam now took possession, while that evening his followers, who
quite scorned the forecastle below deck, camped above it, close up to
the bulwarks, starboard or port, according to which way the wind blew,
these seeming to remind them of their humpies or wind-screens, which
some of the most savage used instead of huts.